The King's Cursed Bride

Clear Skies

Carissa stiffened her jaw to stifle a yawn. A farmer plodded through the street, an empty bottle dangling from his fingertips. A boy, whose face was grizzled in peach fuzz, clung to a package he was carrying, his gaze wearily following the passersby.

And then it was as if time had stopped.

Light and warmth bathed the city, and everyone froze. Carissa wasn't sure how long they remained in their wooden positions before someone shouted,

"Look! The sun."

Everyone tried peering at the sky through their fingers, only to glance down and blink before trying to look up again. They remained rooted where they were, their dirty, pale faces tipped upward. A Reaper scurried for cover, his black robes streaming behind him.

After a few minutes, some had returned to their business. But most were still studying the expanse of the blue sky, reaching their hands out as if to touch it.

Carissa's eyes stung with tears, both from the brightness and the loveliness of the sight. She remembered when she'd last seen the sky, before entering Esmeray. It had seemed a lifetime ago.

A few stray clouds ghosted across the blue expanse, and the golden beams of sunlight poured over the city. Her ring pulsed faintly with warmth, and she smiled. Perhaps they really could defeat the Reaper King.

Mera yawned behind her. "Good morn. Lands, why is it so warm today?"

"Mera, come here."

Floorboards creaked as Mera padded closer. She gasped. "Oh. Oh lands. Is that the sky?"

Carissa nodded. "Ryther did it."

"Do–do you think they're all right?"

"We'll know by tonight, won't we? In the meantime, we need to be ready to sneak into the palace."

"Not so fast, young ladies!" Carissa turned in time to see the healer striding toward them. "Don't think that I've been deaf to what's been going on. I may be old, but I'm not senile."

"And do you intend to turn us in?"

"No, but I think it's a foolish idea. The most foolish idea I've ever heard."

"Surely you understand that we need to at least try to—"

"Which is why I'm going to help."

Mera and Carissa shared a glance.

"Help?" Mera said. "But you're so–so—"

"Old?" The woman barked a laugh. "And you're pregnant, dearie."

Mera's mouth fell open. "How'd you know?"

"Do remember that I'm a healer. And I wasn't proposing that I help you storm any castles." The healer winked. "I've prepared these for you." She held up several small cloth sacks.

Mera sighed. "As helpful as medicine would be—"

"Not medicine, poison. I used to be quite good at them, you know. A local crime lord would hire me for my services."

"Used to?" Carissa asked.

"Ah, well, I'm out of the poison-making business now. But I do remember the recipes. I think." The woman dumped them into Carissa's lap. "Most of these should do their job."

That was hardly reassuring. But perhaps they would prove useful in a tight situation. "Thank you. We appreciate the gift."

The woman cackled. "I can read your expression quite well, dearie. You don't need to thank me for a gift you think is useless."

Carissa suppressed a grimace. Had she been that easy to read?

"But I have something else that might be of use to you. Occassionally, this crime lord would want to assassinate nobles who lived in the palace. On one of his visits, I snagged a paper from his satchel. I thought it might come in handy one day." The woman bustled over to a drawer, withdrew a scroll of paper, walked back, and unfurled it.

Hallways and passages snaked around rooms. There were labels like armory, guest room, treasury, and throne room. A map of the palace.

Carissa's smile was genuine this time. "Yes, this will be most useful. Thank you." She spread the map across her knees. "Now, Mera, what do you think would be the best place to enter the palace?"

#

The door banged open, and Ryther walked in, dragging Tian behind, his arm slung over his shoulders.

Mera sprung from her seat. "Tian! What happened?"

Ryther lumbered toward the cot and set Tian down. "After we destroyed the Nephesh, we were ambushed. Tian helped me fell many, but while they were locking blades, the man ran his fist into Tian's face."

Mera knelt by Tian's side and inhaled sharply. "Are you sure it was only his fist? It almost looks like something sharp scraped his cheek."

Ryther grimaced. "The man wore gauntlets."

The healer joined Mera's side and tsked. "Men. Always getting themselves into one scrape or another."

Carissa approached Ryther. "So it went well? Do they know it was you?"

Ryther shook his head. "Tian and I were masked. Both of our identities are safe." His graze strayed toward Tian, his brows dipping into a frown. "If only Tian had been able to emerge unharmed."

Carissa shrugged. "A little scrape on the cheek isn't bad. He'll live. And he's unconscious because of the hit to his head?"

Ryther nodded.

"Hmmm. I hope there isn't much internal damage." She flinched. "I remember when I had a head injury once. The world wouldn't stop spinning, and I could barely walk."

"But you recovered."

"Not... not quite. My husband healed me." Carissa smoothed her finger along her wedding band. "If not for him, I might have been permanently injured." One glance at Ryther's guilt-stricken face revealed she'd said the wrong thing. "But, I mean, surely Tian will be just fine. He has a sturdier build than I do, after all."

"I do hope you're right." Ryther rubbed a hand over his face. "When did you plan to try and attack the Reaper King? Tonight?"

"If possible."

"I anticipated as much." He dragged a stool over and seat himself. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. "What's the plan?"

"You don't have to come. I know that you're tired—"

Ryther groaned. "Carissa. After all that I just did, you still don't trust me?"

"Not at all. But I know that couldn't have been easy. If you think you're strong enough to storm the palace with us tonight, you're more than welcome to join us." Carissa stood and strode over to the table, where the map was splayed out. "In the meantime, perhaps you could help me choose a location to enter the palace. And do you know where the Reaper King would be? In the throne room, perhaps?"

Ryther shook his head. "No. The throne room is more for ceremony and appearance. The Reaper King locks himself deep within several chambers. You have to go through an iron gate guarded by a hundred reapers. Within the next chamber is a drawbridge—"

"Are there any shortcuts?"

Ryther grinned. "Of course." He slid the map toward himself, picked up a charcoal pencil, and drew a line through the palace. "There's a passage right here."